The Wraith's Progress
by Charlotte Heywood
Summary: The capture of several members of the Atlantis team by the wraith leads to somewhat unexpected-and amusing results. A sequel to Possession. As always, reviews are much appreciated.
1. The Ruse

The Wraith's Progress

Written at the request of Miss E------ B----------, a most discerning lady.

Canto I: The Ruse

"_Like the dew on the mountain,_

_Like the foam on the river,_

_Like the bubble on the fountain,_

_Thou art gone, and forever![?"_

_-__The Lady of the Lake_

Outdated System- Shame on thee!

I will thy pow'r abuse

That though I verse or prose may write,

There is no Sci-Fi muse!

But yet (To spite this tragic fact)

In writing I'll not fail,

I am a lady of my word

And promised you a tale.

With fancy's magic pencil

I'll delineate the scene,

But (O the horror!) 'Tis the hive

Of dreaded Wraithen (1) queen!

Now 'queen''s a term I loosely use,

For though in form and plan

A dame, she shared a body with

A long-dead British man.

Lord Beckett (p'raps you may recall)

Was out for poor McKay,

'Till Ronon put a stop to that

And luck'ly saved the day.

Ah, Reader! 'Twas a strange 'duet'

As Fan-fic pairings went,

To be half evil fiend and half

An 18th century gent!

'Twas at the time of Carson's death

-If death we can discern,

For science-fiction characters

(like Christ) will oft' return.

His forebear sent condolences-

A letter edged in black,(2)

But ah, I fear it was a means

For getting Rodney back!

_The Letter _

Unhappy Ones! I feel thy smart,

For it afflicts his family's heart

As much as any sadness can

At losing such a righteous man!

He was his Father's pride and joy,

He was his Mother's darling boy,

And I (a far relation though)

Could not restrain my tears to flow.

O let me view his resting ground

Before by death I too am found,

For I am aged and cannot last

The winter's chill and hostile blast.

- C. Beckett

1.I use an alternate form of the word for meter's sake. See The Faerie Queene for other examples of this fairly common practice.

2.In the 18th and 19th centuries, it was customary for friends and relations of a recently deceased person to use black-trimmed stationary to indicate they were in mourning.


	2. The Capture

Canto II: The Capture

"_All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing_."- Attr. to Edmund Burke

Ah Melancholy, Tamer of mankind,

Who spreads o'er all thy soft autumnal shade,

Who can afflict the strongest stoic mind,

And to the Goths and Emos lends its aid.

Let not thy pleasing influence yet fade,

For thou art crucial to my little tale

And are the reason poor McKay's betray'd,

And ev'ryone "sense-motive checks" (1) did fail-

An inadvertant, often cursed betrayal.

"A lovely letter!" Teyla said,

"I pray, compassion take,

And let the elder come aboard

For dearest Carson's sake."

You'd think that Teyla of them all

Would have the strength to think,

But Beckett (by his wraithen maid)

Had forged a mental link.

He sent her visions sad and clear

Of some old Scot's demise,

Impressing this would be his fate

Unless they compromised.

She argued and she long implored

Against the harden'd crew,

Who thought it all to be a trap-

Too touching to be true.

With effort and persuasion great,

She made a fervent plea,

Until the least emotional (2)

Were just as moved as she.

But all were silent- who could tell

His kin without a tear,

Though Carson's death had been nearby,

He was not buried here!

Proud Carter (once a Mary-Sue)

At length spoke up and cried

"At least allow his relative

To see the place he died!"

They all concurred- in everything

The lovely Colonel charm'd,

But in their haste to welcome him,

The bulk had come unarm'd.

It was a most unhappy turn

Of Fortune's heartless wheel, (3)

The gate was opened cordially--

And in the Wraith did steal!

This was a shock to all the team-

With horror and surprise

They saw the fiends, like Romans(4) bold

Had carried off their prize.

McKay they grabbed (and Ronon too!?)

And even had the luck

To take the guy who manned the gate-

The poor, unpitied Chuck!

"Who's Chuck?" The less-obsessive cry-

No fear, I won't despise,

For I'm a newbie just like you

And deeply sympathize.

He's but a humble red-shirt tech,

Though with his fan-girls too,

Including thee, O Patroness-

I added him for you.

Lament, ye nymphs, your tragic fate,

Like fortune, I won't bend,

And pitiless, I leave the tale

Cliffhanging at the end-

TO BE CONTINUED…

(1)See the RPG Dungeons and Dragons.

(2)(cough) Ronon! (cough)

(3)Referring to the _Medieval_ concept of fortune, not the popular gameshow. (Really!)

(4)Alluding to the abduction of the Sabine women.


	3. The Redshirt

Canto III: The Redshirt

"_Sacrificing minions- is there any problem it can't solve?"_

_-The Order of the Stick _

"Your choice is odd (the fan-girls say)"

"Of characters- I'm stumped!"

"For what's a story of this kind"

"If Sheppard can't be whumped?"

Fear not! Although that handsome gent

Is not yet featured there,

I promise angst and comfort/hurt,

And plenty "whump" to spare.

Within a dungeon dank and small

The pris'ners' sentence passed,

Expecting ev'ry waking hour

Perhaps to be their last.

Like injured gothic heroines (1)

They mused on peace sublime,

Except without the fainting spells

Or crying all the time.

At last they heard from down the way

Soft, wicked voices swell

And shuddered- thinking it to be

Their final, parting knell.

Two Wraith appeared in livery (2)-

Now this was strange indeed,

Besides the fact they motioned them

And weren't inclined to feed.

They showed them to a drawing room

Most elegant and small-

So much that all the Hive's décor

It did not match at all.

"Come in." proclaimed a gentle voice,

Although it was not sweet-

And to our heroes' great surprise

A lady did them greet.

She wore a crimson gown of silk,

Her hair with ribbons set,

And though in face she was a wraith,

The rest was Antoinette. (3)

Lord Beckett had to compromise-

Though masculine, he'd feel

"If I must be a woman then

At least I'll be genteel!"

"Ah, Ronon- I am charmed." quoth he,

And you, my friend McKay,

But _you_ I do not recognize-

'Tis not your lucky day."

"My name is Chuck!" The Redshirt yelled

Though pale and ill with fear,

Because he saw the outstretched hand

And knew that death was near.

"I know the old conventions well-"

(Said Beckett with a sigh)

"Unless you have a surname too

You must be first to die!"

"That's silly!" said the Redshirt lad

Why be a slave to rule?

For I've a right to live as well,

Despite the Sci-fi's school."

"Perhaps I have a family too-

For them I earn my bread,

So why not break the common plot

And set us free instead!"

"How stupid do you think I am?"

The noble cried with ire,

"You think because I'm centuries old

I can't see your desire?"

"You want to live- 'Tis obvious-

But think my brains the worst,

And so to spite you for your pains

I'll kill your comrades first!"

He turned to Ronon-though prepared,

Because he was disarmed

There was but little he could do

But punch- and be alarmed.

The villain dodged the mighty blow

With movement fast as light,

And though he else was overpow'rd

By this he won the fight.

With cruelty and heartlessness

The wraith began to feed,

For it was more from wickedness

And less authentic need.

Poor Ronon winced, but not a cry

Would e'er his honour mock-

For him 'twas credit so to die

As stoic as a rock.

Of all the strange fantastic things!

Before he even thought

McKay had grabbed a candlestick

And o'er his head had brought.

He smashed it down with all his might

Upon the scoundrel's head,

Who (if (s)he had not been so strong)

Would instantly be dead.

And Chuck had followed Rodney's lead-

He also whacked away,

Until (between the two of them)

They somehow saved the day.

"What will we do?! How can we leave?"

For Rodney 'gan to freak,

And (losing his heroicness)

Again became a geek.

"We'll steal a dart of course!" said Chuck,

"And I know how to steer,

Though I'm a minor character,

I can be useful here."

So off they snuck, nor did they leave

Their half-dead friend behind,

But dragged him, though his total weight

Was more than theirs combined.

A thousand threats attended them,

But tedious to say,

I simply will abbreviate

And say they got away.

But in the meantime- sad to tell

The spirit mourned his host,

Who, sprawled upon the ground, like him

Had given up the _ghost_.

Lord Beckett sighed and shook his head-

"For I cannot tell why

Although I take good care of them

My hosts all seem to die!"

He paused- it seemed he had a thought

Most evil in its way:

"Of course!" quoth he. "How can it be

I have not tried McKay?"

As Chuck was driving carefully

He did not see, I fear,

A mist seek out poor Meredith

And swiftly disappear.

"We're almost home!" the young man said

In tones that must beguile,

But Rodney only looked at him

And gave a wicked smile…

(1) See The Mysteries of Udolpho and other books of that genre.

(2) Servants' uniforms

(3) Marie Antoinette, I mean.


	4. The Denouement

Canto IV: The Denouement

_Do you not, I say, perceive that we are come to the end of our history…? Who wants a long scene at the last? Mammas are putting the girls' cloaks and boas on; papas have gone out to look for the carriage, and left the box-door swinging open, and letting in the cold air:… To- morrow their play-bills will be as so much waste-paper--so will some of our masterpieces, woe is me: but lo! Here we come to Scene the last._

_-Rebecca and Rowena_

O great Atlantis! Beauteous home

Of clueless Ancients fair,

To thee again the tale devolves,

And is determined there.

Although I know a dart is small—

Uncomfortable for three,

In some strange way (I know not how)

My _leads_ returned to thee.

Brave Ronon was Miss Keller's charge,

And angst there was galore

And so between the two of them

You couldn't ask for more.

With shock the team regarded Chuck,

The hero of the Hive,

For none of them expected him

To still remain alive.

And Rodney? He seemed very down-

He _must_ have been concerned,

For no one in the group of them

His motives had discerned.

A week had passed, and happily

The doctor's patient proved

A constitution that is strong

Has hope to be improved.

Though very weak- an invalid,

The danger had been passed—

Or so he thought, and such a thought

Perhaps would be his last.

One soft and lovely autumn night

McKay the chamber sought

Where Ronon was at rest t'enact

The climax of his plot.

He took a dagger from his belt

And held it o'er the heart

And whispered "'Tis about the time

To finish what I start!"

With that he mercilessly plunged

The knife into his pal--

Poor Ronon wakened with a start

And gave a pain-filled howl.

"You fiend!" cried Keller, rushing in-

"I thought you were a bore,

But this is more than even you

Could ever do before!"

"You know him well!" The villain said

"But 'Tis not he you 'dress, (1)

But I, a vengeful spirit who

His body did possess."

"He is an heir of one whom long-

Two-hundred years at least

I have despised with all my heart

And wished to have deceased."

"So take his life to save your Love

Or else I fear he's done,

For one more blow is all I need

To make his race be run."

"Two Hundred years?!" The doctor cried

"Well that's a waste, I find

How many things you could have done

With all that extra time."

"Your rival's dead- long dead, it sounds

But still you are his foe

And torment the relations

That he didn't even know!"

"You have a point," The Lord agreed

"What's past is past, I'll learn-

For there are nations still to run

And currency to earn."

"But Sir, I mean-" but 'twas too late,

As he was gone before

She spoke, in search of better prey

Whose influence was more.

What can I write to end the piece?

What more is there to say?

I doubt that anything will do

That will not be cliché.

And so to your imagining

I leave the closing show,

With Keller kindly looking to

Her hurt, but living beau.

(1) Address


	5. Epilogue

Epilogue

_Ronon_: I beg your indulgence, a moment or three,

So that I may prove this part's merit to thee-

The story's not pointless, I promise you that,

For now comes the morals we've all learned so pat-

From me: don't trust strength in the place of your brains,

For this would have saved me all manner of pains,

Use proper expression and oration nice,

And thus you'll avoid my distinguishing vice.

_Sheppard_: I'm sure that you wonder at seeing me speak,

For all in the story (but Ronon)'s a geek,

But I shall affirm it where all now can see,

There can be a story that won't include _me_.

_Chuck_: And I, though you thought that I'd not have a say

Have shown that a Redshirt can still save the day,

We're characters too and have lives of our own,

And fan-fiction mourners feel bad when we groan.

_Teyla_: I too have a piece- it's the seers I address,

And ask that they learn from the fault I confess,

A vision, though splendid, is not always true,

And may perhaps lead you to acts you will rue.

_Lord Beckett_: With my fellow villains my thoughts I will share-

Though vengeance will dictate a plan you prepare,

We all love conspiring, but still you should know-

Past two-hundred years, you should just let it go!

_McKay_: Of course _I_ have wisdom, and I'll give my _mite_,

Although I (as always) did nothing but right,

But knowing that others can benefit here

I'll share my advice, though I know it is dear. (1)

I'll talk about _leadership_- I'm in no doubt

You readers could see how my brilliance and clout

Had rescued us else from a horrible fate

--Ignoring the episode which was of late-

But _leadership_- that is what carried the day-

(The others all snap "Won't you finish, McKay!?")

Sweet harp of the Geeks, (2) I must silence thy theme

For the young muse of Sci-fi the ending has deemed

Until once again she inspires the refrain

And thee, my dear patron, desires it again.

(1) Costly.

(2) This parodies Scott's The Lady of the Lake.


End file.
